Small Things
by BananasNotPears
Summary: The Earth could go missing and the Doctor wouldn't realise until next Thursday, but when it comes to his Impossible Girl, it's a very different story. Whouffle fluff of the fluffiest variety!


**Hullo! This isn't actually my first story, but it ****_is_**** the first one I've put a lot of thought into, so if you don't love it, I'll hire a dalek battalion to hunt you down. ****_Seriously... _****Anyway, on with this fluffy drabble of Whouffle goodness, eh? **

**Obviously I don't own Doctor Who because there would have been more Whouffle in the Christmas episode if I had had a say. **

"Come in!" The Doctor shouted from the console to Clara, who was knocking at the TARDIS doors. She opened the door and stepped inside, grinning at the thought of a new set of adventures. She almost skipped up the walkway to stand at his side, watching as his hands danced over the controls quickly, setting their next destination. When he finished with a flourish of pulling down a lever, he turned to her and smiled. She threw herself at him for a hug and he swept her up happily, swinging her slightly as her feet lifted from the ground.

After the long squeeze, he set her down and returned his attention to the scanner, which was bleeping loudly. As scattered pieces of information flew across the screen, most of which Clara couldn't even begin to understand, he glanced sidewards to his friend.

"Nice nails." He complimented, his eyes still on the screen.

"What?" Clara asked, taken slightly aback.

"Your nails," he looked down at said nails. "You've painted them." His eyes met hers. "They look nice." He smiled, before turning to face the scanner again.

Clara looked down at her nails that were, indeed, painted a shade of blue similar to that of the TARDIS as opposed to her usual clear coat. She smirked at him as he typed something quickly on the console's keyboard.

"Thanks." She returned, surprised that he noticed because even if he was a 1000 year old alien, he was still a bloke- and blokes never notice the small things.

* * *

Another Wednesday rolled about, and as soon as she heard the familiar wheeze of the engines, Clara had bolted out of the door and toward the blue box. She knocked six times in rapid succession and then waited. And waited. And waited.

She furrowed her brow and knocked two times more. When the door didn't open to reveal the Doctor after a few minutes, she attempted to push it open. Of course, it didn't open. The grumpy old cow still didn't like her, even after she'd dusted all the nooks and crannies of the console room (which had taken just over 2 hours and three cans of polish).

Clara sighed, accepting that maybe the Doctor didn't want to see her just yet, and went to go back inside the Maitland's and polish there too while she waited. It was then that she heard the door swing open. But when she turned, expecting to see a tall, gangly figure, her vision was compromised by a large cloud of worryingly grey smoke.

Coughing and covering her mouth, Clara waved her hand in front of her in an attempt to rid the air of smoke. As she did, she laughed at a voice choking out, "Extractor fans on!"

The smoke dissipated, leaving Clara faced with a dishevelled Doctor. His jacket was off and his sleeves rolled messily up, his hair a complete tangle atop his head and black soot covering him from top to toe. Because of the black dust staining his skin, his eyes seemed even brighter than usual and his smile more white than it was.

"Clara! Aha, you're here!" He went to hug her, but she stopped him by putting a hand on his chest.

"Yes, I'm here. Now are you going to explain why you're- ON FIRE!" She yelled, patting at the back of his shoulder that was still hosting a small orange flame that continued to smoke. Both adults started to panic and smack the small flame, yelling at one another in fear, anger and confusion.

Once the flame had been extinguished and Clara had wiped her now sooty hands on the bottom of her dress, the Doctor kissed her on the forehead, seeing as he wasn't allowed to hug her. They then both retreated to the TARDIS that was now, luckily, clear of smoke .

"So what were you doing?" Clara questioned, frowning at the trail of muck he'd left behind him of dust and.. Was that flour?

"Well," he began, leaning casually against the console as he spoke. "You said last week that you'd never had a proper apple pie." He began to explain, before Clara interrupted.

"Did I?" She furrowed her brow in thought, trying to recall the instance she'd said that.

The Doctor nodded. "Yep, and I thought that should be rectified." He tapped her on the end of the nose, making her giggle in confusion at his strange decision.

"I was about to take it out of the oven, when I heard you knock. So I went to go and answer the door, but then halfway there, I realised I left the oven on." He had begun to pace the console room floor, making Clara follow him with her eyes, a confused smile on her face.

"So," he started again. "I went to go and turn the oven off, but then I saw the custard was curdling. Oh, I made custard." He said aside, grinning at her. "So I had to take that off of the hob. Then I had to strain it, because nobody wants lumpy custard. But by the time I'd done that, the pie had burnt anyway and when I eventually found the oven gloves the... Ovenburstintoflames." He mumbled quickly, avoiding Clara's amused eyes.

"What's that?" She teased.

"The oven... Caught fire. As did my hair." He pointed to a large thin spot on the right of his head. Clara's mouth fell open at the patch, but she then bit her lip to stifle the laughter that threatened to come out. After she managed to swallow the laugh, she realised just how sweet the Doctor had been, making her an apple pie because of a passing comment over a week ago.

She threw her arms around his neck, ignoring the fact she'd be covered in soot, and laughed into his shoulder. He hugged his arms around her small waist and surreptitiously smelt her hair- which was not burnt off in any way, shape or form- that, ironically, smelt of apple.

"Thank you, Doctor," she smiled up at him when their upper bodies broke from the hug, but their arms still stayed put. "It was a nice thought. But maybe let me do the baking and you the piloting next time, eh?" She joked, making him smile and nod. He pulled her in for another hug, which she gratefully took.

"Oh, and Doctor?" She murmured into his shoulder from within the hug. He let out a, "Mhmm?" that grumbled from within his chest against Clara's ear.

"I happen to rather like lumpy custard, for future reference." She joked, not knowing that the Doctor had taken it down in his mental notebook for his next baking endeavour.

* * *

He'd asked her to stay with him on the TARDIS the next Wednesday. She did, in her own room that the Doctor had forced the TARDIS to create for her. It was good to stay in the TARDIS, Clara thought (but would never admit, just because it would mean telling the Doctor that his box wasn't that bad after all) because it meant that she could not only travel to more than one planet every Wednesday, but also she could spend more time with the Doctor.

After an adventure of saving civilisations or running from monsters, they'd usually find themselves on the sofa in the library, holding a mug of tea each in their pyjamas, talking about everything and yet nothing all at once.

This particular time, the Doctor and Clara had just returned from the Ancient Greek times, where the Doctor had nearly been sacrificed to the Gods and Clara had almost been carted off as a slave. Luckily, they had grabbed each other's hands and ran off to the safety of the big, blue box, where they currently resided. They were, however, floating about somewhere in deep space, as opposed to the streets of Greece in 121 BC.

"So, how are Angie and Artie?" The Doctor asked as he took a gulp of his tea, looking over at Clara, who mirrored his actions.

"Yeah, they're fine. Still constantly asking if they can have another go in the TARDIS." She rolled her eyes at the thought of the pair of the kids whining. Seeing the Doctor open his mouth to argue for the idea, she stopped him before he started.

"No!" She told him sternly, looking at him over the top of her mug as she took another sip of tea. He deflated with a sigh, sinking into the cushions of their favourite sofa as he did.

"Fine," he pouted, setting down his mug on the coffee table in front of them. A companionable silence fell between them, in which Clara crossed her legs beneath her and the Doctor snuck a glance at his friend. His eyes scanned over her: taking in her tousled chestnut hair (still slightly curly from the style she'd adopted for Ancient Greece), and her face, now free of makeup and even more beautiful than before, he thought.

He narrowed his eyes at a glint of silver that came from a chain hanging around her neck.

He reached out his hand to pull the necklace from under her pyjama shirt, making her jump and her eyes widen as she thought he was reaching for... Other things, slightly more south than her neck.

Carefully, he pulled the necklace out and rested the end on his palm, and his palm on her chest. He smiled at the TARDIS key that hung on the end of the small silver chain. He'd given the key to her just last week, after building up the courage to do so over months.

Clara remained silent, trying to make eye contact with the Doctor, who was still smiling at her necklace.

"It looks good." He said finally, tucking the chain back into her shirt, then grinned over at her. Clara blushed and thanked him, her chest still feeling the pressure of his hand, even after he'd removed it. He was getting good at spotting the little changes, Clara pondered to herself, but discarded any and all thoughts when he span himself around in his seat and lay down, his head in her lap. They continued to talk well into the night and all the time Clara ran her hands through his hair subconsciously, which almost distracted the Doctor from taking in everything she said and learning more about his friend (just his friend, he reminded himself, but then reconsidered as her fingers in his hair made him sigh with pleasure) with every new sentence.

* * *

She hadn't even heard the TARDIS land, but she knew, as soon as the doorbell went, that it was him. She finished washing up a mug, placing it on the draining board, before drying her hands and going to answer the door. She pulled the door open, excited to the Doctor again after a week of mundane chores and monotonous conversations, but was thoroughly confused at the sight before her.

The Doctor stood, wide grin across his face, holding a small cake with a candle in one hand and a couple of balloons in the other. He also had a small present balanced precariously on his outstretched arms, wrapped neatly in scarlet paper, with an envelope attached.

"Happy Anniversary!" The Doctor cheerfully exclaimed, making Clara's eyebrow raise quickly.

"Happy what now?!" She asked, oddly panicked at his words, as if they were a couple and she had, indeed, forgotten there anniversary. Then she remembered- not a couple. Her heart sunk at this thought, but was distracted again as he spoke.

"It's been a year, exactly, since we met. Since the walking Wi-Fi data stations, with breakfast and motorbikes and Jammie Dodgers and planes and-" he was stopped from his monologue by her hand, that lay atop his shoulder.

"I know, I was there?" She grinned jokingly, making him smile back. After a lingering look shared between them, the Doctor coughed slightly and thrust the small cake forward. Seeing her blank look, he rolled his eyes and told her, "You've got to make a wish!" He looked pointedly at the candle, still lit up with a small flame that was eating its way down the wax. Clara blew it out, thinking of a wish in her mind as she did so.

Before she could even try a piece of the icing, the Doctor stuffed the entire cake into his mouth in one bite, only just taking out the candle in time before eating.

"Oh, well thanks for sharing!" Clara said sarcastically, as the Doctor smiled sheepishly at her. She reached out and wiped a smudge of pink icing from the corner of his mouth (her pulse rate increasing at the feel of his soft lips beneath her fingers) and transferred it to her own mouth (his pulse rates increasing at the sight of her ridding the icing from her thumb).

"Mmm, that is nice. Wish I'd had a bit now." She smiled at him, letting him know that he was forgiven, as he always was.

"Come in. C'mon." She stepped to the side, allowing him to struggle through the Maitland's front door, catching the two red balloons on the frame and nearly dropping the present.

The two of them finally made it into the front room and sat on the sofa, after the Doctor had placed the gift on the coffee table and Clara had made two cups of tea.

"Aren't you going to open it?" The Doctor asked, looking at Clara in a way a puppy looked at its owner before being taken out for a walk.

"What, now?" Clara asked, swapping her mug for the small present. He sighed in impatience. "Yeah, now." He smiled, wanting to see her reaction. Seeing his agitation, she wasted no time in unwrapping the parcel to reveal a small, velvet box. Her eyes flickered up, seeing him with his tongue between his teeth in nervousness at her reaction and she smiled slightly. She moved the wrapping to her side and opened the box. Inside was an elegant, silver ring nestled on a blue velvet cushion.

Initially, her breath hitched in her throat as she thought it was an engagement ring, but upon closer inspection it wasn't a diamond set in the middle, but a deep blue gem that matched the exterior to the TARDIS perfectly- a colour that she had become increasingly fond of over the course of the past year.

She felt incredibly stupid, but tears sprang to the corners of her eyes and she placed her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying. The Doctor, terrified he'd upset her, leant forward quickly and hugged her tight, apologising into her ear.

"No, no, it's not... I mean, it's lovely. So beautiful. And you," she looked into his verdant eyes as he leant back from her. "You're perfect. Thank you." She said simply, meaning every word. He smirked at her words, eyes leaving hers to stare at their joined hands. (How they'd got to be joined, neither of them knew nor cared.)

A tense moment passed, where both of them considered leaning forward and closing the small gap between them. Clara did eventually, but wasn't brave enough to aim for his lips, however enticing they were, and so placed a simple kiss upon his cheek- although her lips lingered for a few seconds longer than deemed necessary.

After they broke apart, the Doctor stood and pulled her up with him, already talking of the planet they were going to be visiting. Clara placed her ring onto her right ring finger, so it sat side by side with her mothers ring, then was off, being basically dragged by the Doctor to the TARDIS and a new collection of sights and sounds to be seen.

And, as they bounded about the planet of the otter people on their anniversary , Clara fiddled with both rings on her hand, but only when she wasn't otherwise occupied by holding her attentive best friends hand, impressed at his remembering skills. Of course, they were usually rubbish. Late for his own wedding he was, twice. But when it came to Clara, he could- and did- remember every little detail.

* * *

"And then I told the Ambassador of Serenity 87 that it was his cat behind the revolution all along!" The Doctor finished his story as he and Clara waited for the kettle to come to the boil in the TARDIS kitchen.

"But wasn't it his dog behind the riots?!" Clara laughed, tapping the teaspoon she held in her right hand against the back of her left, making the Doctor grin and nod his head as response.

After a fair few seconds, their laughs dwindled down to chuckles, just in time for the kettle to whistle, signifying that the water was boiled. The Doctor slid the two mugs they had prepared (his favourite blue one that Clara had bought him and her favourite red one that the Doctor bought her) along the countertop to her, each one containing an Earl Grey tea bag. Clara poured water onto both, as the Doctor retrieved the milk, taking a swig straight from the bottle as he went. Clara tutted at this, took the bottle from him and wiped his lip free of his milk moustache with a swipe of her thumb. He smiled at her nanny habit, before he pulled the sugar pot over to where the tea was now brewing away.

"Clara?" The Doctor asked, adding six spoonfuls of sugar to the blue mug as he did.

"Yes?" Clara responded, putting the milk away into the fridge, before returning and watching as the Doctor put one and a half sugars into her red mug. He knew exactly how she liked her tea.

"Aren't you going to add milk to that?" He questioned, pointing confused at her milk-less mug of tea, that usually contained a splash of skimmed milk, much like his own.

"Oh, no," she shrugged.

"I've stopped having milk in my tea." She explained, taking a sip of her, frankly rather bland in comparison to the Doctor, cup of tea.

"Oh, right." The Doctor said distractedly, rooting around in his jacket pockets.

"What're you doing, you weirdo?" Clara asked, hands curling around the outside of the warm mug as she leant back against the kitchen side.

"Just," he started, his arm in his left outside pocket up to the elbow. He found what it was he was looking for- a small purple notebook with attached pencil- and shouted in delight.

"Aha! Looking for this!" He gestured to the small notebook, before flicking it open with a flourish and searching through it's battered pages- his mug of tea rapidly cooling as he neglected it. When he eventually reached the right page, he scrawled something that Clara couldn't see and pocketed the notebook again.

"What was that?" Clara asked, eyebrow raised at the offending item.

"I was just noting that you don't take milk in your tea anymore," he told her blankly, finally picking up his tea and taking a sip. She laughed under her breath, not wanting to offend him and his weird sweetness. '_Was the whole notebook dedicated to her and her culinary preferences?_' she wondered, _or was it full of how different people liked their hot beverages_? It wouldn't surprise her if it was either.

"OK. Thanks." She smiled, not really sure how to react to his action.

"Just making sure everything's spot on for my Clara." He smiled affectionally at her over the top of his mug. She felt heat brush her cheeks at the fact that she was his and that he cared about her enough to remember and notice stupid, trivial things. Nails and haircuts and anniversaries and her Mum's birthday (they had made her a soufflé and gone to visit Ellie together, the Doctor holding Clara's hand tightly the entire time).

As she thought these things over, she became so overwhelmed with emotion (that she knew she wouldn't confess to, but was, in fact, flat out love) that she set her mug down and walked the small gap between them to find a place in his arms, her head resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and her head slotted perfectly under his chin, making her feel utterly safe and comfortable.

They stood in the centre of the kitchen for a good few minutes, both perfectly content with the extended hug and both thinking of the person they held in their arms. Because Clara might change her mind a lot- she stopped liking mushrooms three weeks ago, she started drinking red wine again last Thursday and she had taken to wearing her hair up more often, after the Doctor had complimented it one morning- but two things stayed constant in her life. One, her passion for making the perfect soufflé (one more attempt and she'd be there, she told herself after every single try). And two, the fact that she would try- and fail miserably- to employ her trick, and not fall in love. Both with terrible end results.

* * *

"Clara?! Clara, are you done yet?!" The Doctor pounded on his friends bedroom door, huffing at the fact she'd been in there for 38 minutes doing whatever is that takes humans 38 minutes to do.

"Nearly!" He heard Clara yell out, making him groan in disappointment that he'd have to wait even longer for her.

"Right, I'm coming in!" He exclaimed, not wanting to wait any longer without her. He didn't even wait for an OK from his friend before he barged into the room and threw himself onto the bed.

"Oh, please, come in- make yourself at home!" He heard Clara say from across the room, making him look up.

His comment on waiting long enough for her got lost in his throat as he looked over to his companion, who was just putting on her rings- her mothers and the one he had bought her.

"Wow, Clara, you look..." He breathed, hoping she hadn't heard him. But she turned to him, a small smile on her face as she looked down at her outfit, smoothing the odd crease to give her hands something to do other than wring nervously in anticipation of his opinion.

"Do you like it?" She asked and he nodded almost instantly, not of his own accord. She felt her cheeks heat up at his adoring gaze as he took in the medium length scarlet dress that flowed over her petite figure, stopping just above her knees, exposing her, what he could only describe as, incredible legs. After the Doctor had taken her in, all whilst smiling stupidly at her, his eyes met hers.

"You look amazing." He told her, standing slowly. She licked her lips as he walked over to her. As he did, she looked him over too.

"So do you. Nice bow tie." She grinned, reaching out to straighten his deep crimson neck piece, making him laugh.

There was a moment of intense silence as they stared into each others eyes- green meeting brown. Clara's hand came to rest on his shoulder and the Doctor's atop hers. After a few seconds, the Doctor furrowed his brow and quirked the corner of his mouth up in a smile. His hand left hers and cupped her face gently, making Clara bite her lip in order to contain the sigh of happiness that threatened to come out. It became increasingly difficult as the Doctor ran his thumb lightly over her bottom lip.

"You're wearing lipstick." He stated, his eyes studying where his thumb was still brushing.

"Hmm?" Clara hummed distractedly, too busy counting all the separate colours in his eyes to take notice of words.

"This lipstick. You never really wear lipstick." He looked into her eyes again, meeting her in an intense gaze.

"Oh, yeah, well. Y'know, I thought I'd make an effort." She shrugged, wishing he would would remove his hand from her face so she could actually breathe.

"I don't like it." He smirked, making Clara let out a small laugh in disbelief at his bluntness. She opened her mouth, ready to insult his stupid floppy hair or ridiculous bow tie- even though she thought both made him look incredibly handsome.

Her insults and arguments were silenced as The Doctor's other hand came to cup her other cheek, both of his thumbs resting on her cheekbones. He then pressed his lips against hers, making her eyes flutter shut and her heart begin to beat three times faster in her chest. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, gripping just a little bit tighter as he moved his lips against hers.

As she began to reciprocate, The Doctor moved in a little closer to her body and took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit gently, making Clara gasp and the Doctor smirk into her lips.

He pulled away, leaving seemingly endless space between them, as she took in several breaths and opened her eyes to look into his impossibly old but impossibly young eyes.

She laughed when she looked down to his lips, that were smeared with deep red lipstick where he had kissed her. Clara moved her hand from his shoulder and entwined it with his and dragged him over to her dresser to look in the mirror. Both of them had smudged lipstick across their faces and the Doctor had some on his thumb too. They both laughed at themselves in the glass, until the Doctor began to press kisses to her cheek and neck, which silenced Clara. Partly because he was getting lipstick all over her but mainly because it was the Doctor pressing kisses all over her.

She gained some semblance of control and shoved him away laughing, glaring at him due to the red marks he'd left over her skin.

He was still grinning when she wiped them off, as well as the lipstick she had been wearing, with a wet wipe. He stopped when she used the same wipe on his hands and lips, as her other hand rested in his hair to keep him still.

Clara threw the wipe onto the dresser, turning back to the Doctor.

"There," he smiled, running his thumb back over her lip. "Much better without." He pressed a small kiss to her now lipstick free lips.

"I don't know, I think you looked pretty good yourself, time boy." Clara smirked back up at him, before capturing his lips with hers again, this time not shoving him off when he pressed his lips against her neck.

* * *

The Doctor never really noticed big things. Like planets going missing or the fact that Angie had replaced his sonic with a parsnip that one time he and Clara visited the Maitlands. But he picked up on every little thing when it came to Clara. Haircuts, illnesses and even what mood she was in. But that was because the small things meant the most to his impossible girl and he wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

Because when she was happy, and he always knew when she was, it meant that she would hold his hand in a certain grip to make him feel grounded. Run her hands through his hair with a specific pattern to make him sigh in pleasure. Hug him just tight enough to make him feel safe. Kiss him in these small ways that made him love her even more than he already did. Run the tiniest of touches that only she knew how to do along his skin that made him shiver. Because the Doctor wasn't the only one who paid attention to the small things.


End file.
